Sakura's Resolve
by DamnLazyWriter
Summary: Takes place [based on] shortly after the beginning of the Ninja War. A conversation with Neji fuels a preexisting conflict within the pink-haired kunoichi. Will she follow impulse and allow her resolve finally crumble?


**S****akura's Resolve**

**. .**

**A/N:** This story sort of...took a mind of its own. I may or may not continue. Who knows? This was inspired by my recently catching up with the series. I'd discontinued watching it for about four years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

**. .**

No amount of naïve optimism could have prepared her for the onslaught that was the Fourth Ninja War.

Uchiha Madara was a unique threat—he alone was a walking battalion, while those at his command stood with the accumulative force of multiple shinobi nations. In all of the chaotic spume, it was difficult for one to find the time to fathom this momentous task of war.

Uchiha Madara was just one man. One man who had the gall, resources, and power to slaughter half of the Allied Shinobi Forces within a few hours of first blood. One man had concluded that he was the sole inheritor of this earth. His tactics called for the deployment of unforeseen abominations. Who was to say that he was human himself? His methods were crude and unethical, and Sakura briefly wondered if he'd risen from the blackened dimensions of some hell yet discovered. She hardly wanted to think about it. Anything was possible, now.

And inevitably, there was death. Lots of it. Tens of dozens had died under her care, choking out last requests to pass on to their families. There was nothing in the world to assuage that agony; no one to assure her that she couldn't have possibly done more to see these shinobi home. These men and women were falling needlessly at the hands of a monster. They were dying in her arms and ordered to be cremated. The Regimental Commander, Gaara, had ordered the bodies to be burned. It had been theorized that Madara could replenish his armies with their dead. Unfortunately, it was a risk that they had no choice but to factor in. Denying these shinobi proper burial was a necessary sacrifice.

Evening had crept upon them. With the enemy retreat came droves of tired, wounded shinobi, all who welcomed rest and recuperation, even at the price of hearing the moans of the dying in the hospice tents nearby. Upon healing her final patient, Hyuuga Neji, Sakura had been dismissed in order to tackle the less laboring work of organizing backed up paperwork. Her chakra was near depletion. She was glad to get away from the front lines, but reluctant confront her unresolved thoughts.

Namely...Sasuke. Under the lantern light of her small tent, Sakura unraveled an old photograph from an unused weapon compartment on her battle uniform. Her younger self, Naruto, and a brooding Sasuke looked back at her, and she found herself being plunged into a lukewarm well of nostalgia. Seeing his face gave her intimate pangs. Resentment, hope, desperation...it all flushed into her system like some sort of dizzying drug. But the most potent emotions she felt seemed to ignite her internally. There was something sweltering about the way she loved him...something feral and uncontrolled...something that could only be neutralized by the sudden tide of pain she felt. Sakura recalled the ruthlessness of his plight, and how he'd intended to kill her by plunging his blade into her heart. That pain...that pain was more intense than any bit of physical pain she'd ever endured in her life. She would trade off for that pain any day. And it was a pain that she carried alone.

Maybe she could have stopped him from killing her if she really wanted to. But she hadn't. Her battle prowess turned clumsy in his presence. She'd been too overcome with shame and the knowledge that she had failed. She'd subconsciously became a martyr for her love—her obsession. She'd felt that if she deserved to die, it ought to be at his hands. Those rough, calloused hands, that she desired so desperately to regard her tenderly, should be the only hands that she should die by.

Or maybe she'd simply been too much of an idiot to realize that he was too far gone to spare her.

"Sakura-san?"

Sakura came too, quickly snapping her wrists over her eyes. They'd grown wet in her ponderous abandon. Her fellow Leaf ninja, Hyuuga Neji, was peering at her speculatively from underneath the tent flap. She quickly tucked the photograph back into her uniform and plastered on a practiced smile.

"Neji-san. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you coming. Did you need something?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sakura-san." Neji fully made his way into the tent, "My bandages..."

"Did I not wrap them tightly enough?"

The Hyuuga confirmed her question with a short nod. Sakura moved aside, allowing him to sit at her desk while she fished for some gauze in a nearby cabinet. She could not help but wonder why he hadn't sought help from an active medic. No matter. He was here now. She wasn't going to be rude and turn him away. Sakura moved back towards Neji, who was already working his arms out of his shirt, and aided him with the task. He wordlessly obliged.

Some of the bindings had indeed loosened. She unraveled the bits that were soiled in old blood, tossed them in a sanitary bin, and proceeded the apply the fresh bandages. This time, Sakura added a mild medical adhesive, infused with chakra, for good measure. Neji was a sinewy type; strong and lithely muscled. For a moment Sakura marveled at how much his lean musculature reminded her of Sasuke...but everything seemed to remind her of Sasuke, she reasoned.

Once Sakura completed the dressing, Neji flexed his arms to test durability. He appeared satisfied. "Sakura," The Hyuuga regarded her strangely, "Thank you."

"Of course, Neji-san. It's what I'm here for." She responded, watching him expectantly. But he did not bother to address his missing article of clothing, or even stand to leave. He instead dropped his gaze to his lap, his expression neutral.

"It must be hard for you."

The kunoichi chewed the inside of her cheek. "What?"

"I understand that you're in a difficult position, Sakura."

"It's getting late." She countered suddenly. "You really should conserve your chakra and rest. You'll be back on the front lines tomorrow. Besides...we're all in difficult positions. That doesn't apply to me exclusively. I'm not even sure what you mean, honestly."

"Don't you?"

They regarded each other acutely. Sakura broke her stare first.

"No. I don't."

"I saw you just before I announced myself. I don't understand. Why do you care so much for someone who hurts you like that? Is it because you feel that you deserve it?"

"Please, Neji-san." Sakura asserted, suddenly rigid. "Don't try to psychoanalyze me. I don't owe anyone an explanation as to how I feel about Sasuke-kun. Don't try to mask criticism with concern. I'm fine, thank you."

"I apologize. I'm aware that I'm being forward, but I'm being sincere. You at least owe yourself an explanation, Sakura."

"Excuse me?" Her tone sharpened dangerously.

Neji was unaffected. He folded his arms, piercing her with his opaque visage, which seemed to hold an unnerving clarity. "Uchiha Sasuke is not a good person. He is selfish. He is willing to cut down whoever is in his way, including his friends, in order to satisfy his vengeance. Yet here you are, constantly trying to defend him against his own actions. Are you going to disagree?"

"You don't know anything. You don't know about Sasuke-kun at all."

"Sakura...people aren't that difficult to discern. They are the sum of their actions. Uchiha Sasuke has decided what is important to him, and clearly you are not one of his priorities."

Within a heartbeat, Sakura crossed the space between them, baring chakra infused fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. He was just within striking range. He allowed it. Cool transparency clashed openly with fuming green ire.

"You were never there." She hissed, eyes narrowing, "You weren't with Team Seven. You never got to see who he was—only who he became. Sasuke-kun _is_ worth saving. Sasuke-kun is _not_ an inherently terrible person. He witnessed horrifying things at a very young age, and he is handling it the only way that he knows how. Can you blame him? Don't pretend that you too weren't dyed a different color not so long ago, Neji-san."

"Yes." He responded evenly. "But it did not take me long to realize that my way was unacceptable. It was an illness. It needed to be broken."

Sakura persisted. "You didn't get there on your own! You had people that cared enough about you to bring you to a realization! We are Konoha ninja, Neji-san. We don't leave our own to die in the cold. That is our ninja way."

"That may be true, but at what point do you realize that you can't continue to live your life for one person? Why sacrifice your well being for someone who refuses to acknowledge you in the same way?"

"Sasuke is Konoha. Konoha is my life." Sakura's tone oozed a deadly finality. "We are done talking. Unless you have anymore injuries that you'd like for me to attend to, please leave. I have to archive these medical reports before sunrise."

The girl promptly whirled away. To her dismay, however, he simply continued to sit there, a critical expression relaying a portion of his inner tumult. They didn't knew each other enough to be exchanging such intimate inquiries, and it infuriated her that he'd been bold enough to even try. Even Naruto, as forward as he normally was, had never pried so unabashedly.

But maybe that was because Naruto understood. Neji, a stranger outside of peer association, knew nothing about her. About them. Still, a guy like him would not approach her like this without a motive. The only question that really remained concerned what he really wanted.

Sakura loved Sasuke. She didn't have an acceptable justification for her attachment. Perhaps that tortured a rational person like Neji—a person who could not see life being more than a fixed equation to be dissected. Sakura could only dream of a life so hygienic.

"Sakura."

She chose not to acknowledge him. The kunoichi instead began rifling through medical documents, shoving the sorted ones into metal filing cabinets. They were in war, true, but this data was imperative to their victory against Madara. Maybe Neji would pick up on the importance of her task and see his way out.

"I think...I know that you are valuable asset to the Leaf." He ventured cautiously. "That is why..."

Sakura swallowed, forcibly avoiding his intense scrutiny. Confusion melded with the anger that was tingling through her fingertips. Just what was he getting at, now? She pursed her lips, thumbing through the various reports of the deceased.

"For what it's worth, that is why I think it is foolish of you to put your heart in the wrong place."

"I appreciate your words, but that is none of your business." She thundered tersely. "That was never any of your business. Please leave." Sakura pivoted and straightened the files before tucking them into a metal draw. Upon turning around, the kunoichi withdrew sharply. Neji had crossed the room, and in doing so, closed their proximity. He was so close that she was sure that even in breathing she was invading his personal space.

"Neji—w-what—" A few steps backward. She bumped gracelessly into the filing cabinet. It teetered dangerously against her weight, causing her to stumble. The Hyuuga mirrored her steps. His features were unreadable.

"You shouldn't let someone treat you so poorly."

Had she overlooked his symptoms? Sakura's mind was racing. It was not farfetched to assume that maybe Neji was suffering a debilitating fever—one that could be affecting his judgment. Delusions, maybe? It wouldn't be surprising. Ninja were certainly more prone to infection during times of war...and even with his byakugan, he wouldn't be entirely aware of his own body.

"Neji-san," She breathed, her heart racing indeterminably, "Are you feeling alright?"

"No."

There was a brief moment where the air seemed to thicken, and her lungs wouldn't comply to the intake, and she simply could not breathe. His eyes. They were piercing right through to her, and the tent was suddenly sweltering. Unbearably so. She reached to loosen her collar, and he swept up her arm in the instant that she decided to move.

His thumb trailed against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. She shivered. Not once did their locked gazes deviate. He lowered his head to kiss her—first her cheek, her jaw, and then the tender dip between her collarbone and neck. His lips were firm, grasping, and she felt her knees begin to buckle beneath her.

She grasped his arm to keep herself from falling. "Neji. Stop."

He ignored her, planting fervent kisses along her neck in response to her weak insistence.

"Stop, please..."

It was barely a whisper. She'd already placed both of her hands on his shoulders. He released her wrist, lowered his hands to her waist, pausing only to lift his face and finally plant his lips against hers. Sakura's eyes fluttered shut. She didn't resist. The war, Sasuke, and any other real world distraction melted into a distant worry. Why care? All she knew was the heated language of Neji's mouth against hers. He kissed her harder, more deeply, before moving to grapple for the inside of her knees, lifting her from the ground and forcing her to straddle his thighs.

Her arms were lose about his neck as he carried her across the tent. Her ass slammed against the desk when he finally sat her down, her fingers tangled in his hair, lips fighting and eager, and his trembling hands grasping insistently at the waist band of her pants.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. And yet, as surely as the moon was bright, Hyuuga Neji was pressing his body against hers and struggling to relieve her of her clothing.

"_Haruno-san!"_

Both ninja froze. Footsteps, frantic and nearing, could be heard on the outside of the tent. Their disentanglement was instantaneous. Neji shot across the room to gather his discarded shirt, and Sakura frantically readjusted her clothing. They'd created a mess in their fervor. Papers as well as medical supplies lie scattered on the ground. Just as both she and Neji shuffled around to gather the mess, the tent flap burst open, revealing a frightened shinobi with his arm in a sling.

"Haruno-san! Hyuuga-san! Two people have been found dead in camp, near the hospice tents! You have to hurry!"

With little more than a somber nod of acknowledgment, all three ninja filed out and headed towards the area of concern. A small crowd of worried shinobi had clustered in the distance. Before they could continue along further, Sakura held out her arm and stopped Neji in his tracks. They turned to face each other.

"Why? Why are we doing this? Why did I—why did you let that happen?"

Neji's expression became stormy. Conflicted. For once, he looked away, eyes averted to some insignificant point in the distance.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself. But how I feel, Sakura...it's up to you what you want to do with it. It's real."

"I _love_ Sasuke. I really...I _really_ love him, Neji!"

A slow smirk crept across the Hyuuga's pale lips. He pushed his way past her her, leaving her baffled and conflicted.


End file.
